New Hum.

And All you can think of,
is it consisted of a new hum and terrible timing,
every absence became a murder scene,
snatched the wicked from their death beds,
resurrected dirty minds with blanket statements and weightless hands.
in my mind I slipped under distance while venom fucked me senseless,
i got shivers when I showered and shook the moon from the ridden-raw branches,
i ate every star you gave me until darkness sang your song.
discord was whiskey on my lips, captain morgan and coke,
shift my body on the throne, every kink in the armor, sent you up in fury,
you fling every temptation in my face,
i don’t need to see you fucking her to feel the pull in my ribs,
I know what it is, stabbed with the knife of imagery.
you tell me to shut my eyes, there’s magic at work,
blood-stained, throat curse, half-haphazardly warned me,
shut me up in a wretched stream of forgetfulness, suppose this was all ease,
it was clean enough, but only in after-aftermath to wash away agony,
slip his words in my bastard lament, I bet this was your true form,
when you wept listening to video-game soundtracks, I backtrack every raging “fuck you-fuck you-fucking” from my lips, factored in, that you could feel too,
only briefly, sleeping, and keeping truths about distance only with enough wine in your system, you spill all sentiment, gushing like a midnight lush.
I took every hit from your vile kingdom,
I complained once about visiting ghosts in intricate designs across your skin,
all I could think of, was drinking too much and listening to the hum of your heart,
and tainted words, softly vibrating in your chest.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.